


Hanging on by a thread

by Azalea_Scroggs



Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Death Sentence, Gen, Hanging, Medieval AU, Thoughts about death, but nobody actually dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 08:39:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27348280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azalea_Scroggs/pseuds/Azalea_Scroggs
Summary: Day 1: Let's hang out sometime - HangingLuke Skywalker, notorious Rebel, is led to his execution. He is going to need all his courage for this, for his father is the one who is going to end his life. Or is he...
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Series: Whumptober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997206
Comments: 6
Kudos: 80





	Hanging on by a thread

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to SpellCleaver for letting me steal her idea for this one!

The carriage jolted, and Luke jerked to the side, barely managing to keep his balance as he was startled out of his musings.

They weren’t very happy musings, anyway, considering where he was headed.

His stomach contorted, and he took a deep breath. He worried his wrists against the heavy manacles, out of nervousness more than actual discomfort. As soon as he did, he caught himself and stopped moving, determined not to show any sign of weakness. It was already hard enough to keep his dignity deprived of his tunic, shoes and stockings, his body flecked with wounds, only wearing a torn and stained shirt. Especially at this time of the year…

He wished he could have died in spring, when the flowers were blooming and nature was reviving, bringing hope in the hearts of those who watched it. But he would never see these things again; he would leave in the grey downward slope of autumn.

This morning, it was even drizzling a little. Luke had to fight to repress cold shivers.

Neither of the guards flanking his sides seemed to notice his turmoil. Luke took a deep but discreet breath, centring himself like Friar Ben had shown him in the short and secret time he’d taught him in the forbidden arts of the Jedi. He looked straight ahead, ignoring the gossiping stares of the crowd.

The carriage took a corner, and the knot in Luke’s guts tightened at the sight in front of him.

The Imperial Castle stood there, keeping the whole city of Coruscant in its shadow, its stone as dark as the soul of its owner, King Palpatine. But that wasn’t what Luke was staring at, for impressive that the sight was.

Much more foreboding, to him, was the gibbet erected at the centre of the square.

Luke had walked past it countless times while heading to different Rebel meetings, before he went out to actually fight against Palpatine’s armies. The sinister wooden construction had always been a sobering reminder of what would be his fate if he was caught.

Never, however, had it seemed so definite a threat as today.

This was it, he thought dully. Truth be told, he had expected it to shake him more than that. The spike of fear had already smoothed down, leaving nothing but tired resignation, very near relief, as he gazed upon the instrument that would put an end to his days. Or rather his minutes by now, he supposed, sketching a wry smile.

He’d had time, in his captivity, to acknowledge the finality of his death. Ever since he had been caught in battle by Vader’s – by his _father’s_ – clever trap, he had known it would end like this.

Still, he hadn’t been given much of a chance to make peace with it. The excruciating agony of torture wasn’t exactly conducive to contemplation; neither were the relentless demands for him to yield, to denounce his friends, to come to the Empire’s side in exchange for his life.

He had always refused. Time and again, never wavering. Each of his breaths had been a show of contempt, each of his screams a curse towards his tormentors, affirming his dedication to his cause.

He shivered at the memories, and clung to his defiance to give himself courage. Death would be easier, if he remembered what it was for.

Even more needed would be that remembrance, when it was his own father who had brought about his misery. Even worse was the knowledge that without his father, he would have been executed all the sooner, much more mercifully; he would never have gone through these last days or weeks or months – he had lost count – of unimaginable torment, if not for the order of the man who claimed to love him…

What cursed love. It had destroyed Luke’s life, humiliated him and reduced him to the barebones of who he was before sending him nearly naked, physically and emotionally, to the gallows. It had made his ordeal a thousand times worse, for Luke was certain he wouldn’t feel so much horror and grief at his own torment, had it been inflicted by a complete stranger…

But for his father, for the man he had always wanted to know, always pictured protecting him and guarding him from any distress, to be the instrument of his death… That, more than any suffering, was what hurt Luke the most.

By now Luke could see him standing by the gibbet, waiting for him. His expression was unreadable behind the black mask, and Luke couldn’t help wonder if he, too, felt a pang in his heart upon seeing him.

The carriage stopped, and the guards roughly grabbed Luke, manhandling him to the wooden platform. Luke felt a flare of irritation at that. What were they afraid he’d do? He knew it was the end; all he wanted, by now, was to die with dignity, and they were trying to rob him of even that. He knew of kings and princes that had been sentenced to execution and still been able to choose their clothing, their company, their last words, everything up to the moment of their death.

He hadn’t even been given a peaceful night to prepare.

Thankfully, Vader – his father – his executioner – came to meet him at the foot of the stairs. With a gesture, he made the guards stop in their tracks; with a gentle, too gentle hand on Luke’s arm, he urged him forward. Luke swallowed and started to climb his way up, limping a little from his injuries, Vader’s hand a comforting and damning weight at the small of his back.

If his father was going to kill him, he wished he could at least have borne him a clean blow of his ruby-inlaid blade. Luke wasn’t looking forward to what was coming: the floor opening under his feet, his body dangling down like a doll in view of the whole city, his neck strained, his air-deprived lungs slowly succumbing…

_Steady. You’re nearly there. Just a little more courage._

They came on top of the platform. Vader made him stand on the trapdoor, his touch still feather-light, before reading his sentence to the crowd. Luke resisted the temptation to close his eyes and instead stared ahead, at the horizon.

He wondered where the sun was in the sky, above the clouds. Close to its zenith, perhaps. It was hard to tell. Nevertheless, he let its muffled rays gently embrace his face. He had spent so long buried away from it…

Then Vader came to stand in front of him, blocking the light. Luke looked up at him, not sure how to react. He didn’t have the energy left for much emotion, anyway.

His father’s fingers came to stroke his cheekbone, then cradled one side of his face. Luke pursed his lips, his throat tightening.

No. He couldn’t deal with this. Let him die already…

“Luke,” Vader whispered. “Are you certain…”

“Yes,” Luke cut him off, quiet, but categorical.

Vader took his face in both of his hands.

“My son…”

Part of Luke wanted to be mad, to deny Vader the right to call him his son when he had treated him nothing like one. But he heard the anguish and the grief in his father’s voice, the true desperation he was exuding; he felt the awkward tenderness with which he held him, as if he was a frail bird, and he didn’t have it in him to end his life in anger.

He was so, so tired.

“It’s all right,” he whispered, although it really wasn’t, and it would never be, now.

_Steady. You’re so close._

He would be with Ben soon, and Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. He hoped he had made them proud.

“You’ve made your choices, and I mine. I forgive you.”

Vader jumped at that as if he’d been burnt. Luke gave him a tiny smile, the most he could muster.

_You’re nearly there._

His father hesitated, seemed about to say something else. Luke silently begged him to let it go, to stop arguing and do what he must, for both of their sakes.

Vader must have understood him, for his shoulders sagged, resigned. He reached for the noose and put it around Luke’s neck, tightening it with slow gestures. Shielded from the crowd by his father’s shadow, Luke allowed himself a moment of weakness and closed his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. He held himself straight and his head high, trying not to think of the sensation encircling his neck.

_So close._

Then, at last, Vader let go. He took a step back, threw a last glance at Luke, then pulled on the lever.

A flash of panic flared in Luke as his feet lost all purchase. The rope pressed on his Adam’s apple, painfully, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t even kick in the air, _couldn’t breathe_ –

Something gave out. Luke fell on the ground and let out a groan, stunned by the impact.

The sound of steel against steel rang in the air. Luke crouched deeper under the platform, disoriented. From where he was, he could see Vader’s legs and cape swirling, in battle with the red-armoured guards.

He was alive.

What was going on? Why was he still alive?

His heart racing in his chest, he reached around his neck with badly shaking hands. The rope was still there, its hemp rough against his skin, but the end of it had been cut.

“Luke, run!” Vader shouted.

Luke jumped. What – where –

“I’ll cover for you, but you need to _run!_ ”

At last the situation dawned upon his shocked mind. Vader had cut the noose, Vader had saved him, Vader was trying to help him escape –

He hesitated, still stupefied and confused. His father – wasn’t he going to follow, what would happen? Part of him wanted to say good riddance, without him Luke would not even be here in the first place; but the son in him whispered, _he’s come through, he’s come through for me, he saved me…_

“Luke, you need to RUN!” Vader bellowed once more.

That made Luke jump to his feet, knock his head against the wood, shuffle out from under the platform and stand again. His eyes darted all around, seeking an exit from the crowd and the guards…

An arm seized him, dragged him, and Luke screamed in terror when he saw the sword coming for his neck –

– before the man was thrown back with a spurt of blood, and Luke was held by his father again.

Vader spun him around, put his blade between Luke’s wrists, then with a huge blow of his knee against the pommel of his sword, shattered the chain holding his hands together.

“Now GO!” he shouted at him again.

At last, the words registered in Luke’s mind. He darted towards the smaller streets of the city, weaving between the citizens and escaping far into the bowels of the town.

He run as long as he could, overcome by panic, barely knowing where he was going. His lungs were on fire, and everything hurt, and _he’d been about to die, he would die if he was caught…_

He stumbled against someone, tried to get around them, let out a hoarse scream when they held him back. He fought desperately, barely aware of what he was doing –

“Luke – Luke, calm down, it’s me!”

_Leia._ Relief overwhelmed him, as well as some of his senses. His knees buckled, and he clung to her tightly.

“You’re safe, you’re safe, I’m here…”

She was stroking his back, and Luke realised tears were flowing out of his eyes. He did his best to slow down his breath, to actually take air into his burning lungs, and focused on his friends’ scent to ground himself.

Once he was a little calmer, Leia ushered them into her house, locking the door before sitting them down in her main room. Luke knew it well; they had often gathered here…

He hadn’t expected to see it again, he realised. But here he was. Alive, despite every expectation he’d had…

Memories of shackles and whips and knives assaulted him, and he closed his eyes against them. 

It was over. It was _over._

Leia held him, and they huddled together in relieved, shocked silence for a very long time.


End file.
